


my first Good Omens fic please be gentle

by taylor_tut



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Whump, Hurt Crowley, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: My first Good Omens fic! There's not enough Crowley whump in the world so I'm here to  p r o v i d e  for y'all. This one was a request from my tumblr. Aziraphale and Crowley are in charge of a holy object, and even just being close to it drains Crowley's energy. Eventually, he collapses, and Aziraphale is there for him.





	my first Good Omens fic please be gentle

Re-lose the Holy Grail. 

It was just about the stupidest thing that Crowley had ever been asked to do, and he was sure that the same was true for Aziraphale, too. He wasn’t happy about having to be so near an object so… well, something so wholly Holy, but he’d already complained enough for the time being, he thought. At least he didn’t have to touch the blessed thing. 

Adam had, once again, accidentally used his powers to manifest something in his dreams. This time, after his father had decided to show him what he swore was the best comedy in the world, Adam had conjured the chalice unknowingly, so now it was their job to put it back where it had been hiding for the past several centuries. 

Stupid Monty Python. 

Stupid Holy Grail.

Stupid—

“—Crowley,” Aziraphale called sweetly, “are you quite alright?” 

“Never better,” he bit out. Aziraphale bristled a little at the hostility of his tone. 

“It’s just that, well, you’re lagging behind.” 

He looked up from his own feet to find that he’d fallen decently far behind Aziraphale. He hadn’t noticed since he’d been sulking. 

_ You move too fast for me. _

His long legs and bitter spirit usually meant that he was a fast walker. Aziraphale usually had to practically jog to keep up, so this was a bit odd. 

“It’s just so damned hot here,” he whined by way of an excuse. So much for not complaining again for a bit.

Aziraphale looked a little confused. Crowley had taken off his jacket and was holding it so that it hung over one shoulder, but Aziraphale was still in his suit coat and appeared to be doing just fine. 

“You do look flushed,” he said. “If you’d like a rest, we can—”

“No,” Crowley interrupted harshly. “Let’s just get this bloody thing back to where it belongs so we can go home.”

He winced at the slip-up: home. He’d meant to say, “your book shop,” as that had been the plan, but he was quickly becoming too fond of the place. It wasn’t home, not for either of them and certainly not for Crowley. 

Aziraphale didn’t call him out on it. 

“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”

He wasn’t going to. Crowley knew that it wasn’t the weather that was making him feel so hot and drained and ill, but the proximity to the Grail. Holy objects tended to have that effect on him if he touched them, sure, but the Grail was so powerfully blessed that even just holding the bag they’d put it in had made his entire arm break out in hives so badly that Aziraphale had insisted on not letting him anywhere near it for the rest of the trip. The sooner that he could get away from it, the better. 

The longer that they walked, the more Crowley could feel the Grail taking a toll on him. Every muscle in his body hurt, making every step more difficult than the last. Aziraphale waited up for him every time he fell behind, which was kind, but also sort of the last thing that he needed right now. A headache was blossoming behind his right eye, spreading its tendrils of bright, zig-zagging light across his field of vision.

He’d put his coat back on a while ago, when the oppressive heat had suddenly and completely converted itself into a bone-deep chill. He knew he was sweating despite the shaking cold, and it embarrassed him a little, but he couldn’t find the energy to care all that much. 

“Why don’t we stop for a rest?” Aziraphale said again, this time a bit more insistent. Crowley took a few more stumbling steps forward before his knees buckled, sending him sprawling into Aziraphale, who caught him with a small yelp. “Crowley?” he called. “What’s wrong?” 

Crowley could barely even hear his voice; it was drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. Blindly, he shoved at the bag, pulling away from Aziraphale despite that he’d been very much not opposed to his touch.

“Ah, right,” Azira realized. “One moment. Just sit down.” 

When Crowley opened his eyes, it was because the pain behind them was slightly less than agonizing, which he attributed to the fact that before him, fretting with a hand on Crowley’s forehead and a worried crease between his own eyebrows, knelt Aziraphale, decidedly without the bag. 

“What have you done with the Grail?” he asked, and Aziraphale’s expression lightened a bit. 

“Never mind that,” he brushed him off. “How are you feeling?”

Crowley almost laughed. “Slightly less like I’ll be discorporated if I stay here any longer,” he replied. It was halfway a joke, but Aziraphale didn’t laugh. 

“Good,” he replied. “Would you like to get out of here?” 

Crowley looked puzzled. “The Grail—”

“Well, it’s hidden, isn’t it?” he asked. Though Crowley would have sworn that he could see the edge of the bag poking out from under some shrubbery a good distance ahead of them, he couldn’t bring himself to argue. 

“I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Help me up?” 

Aziraphale did just that, supporting much of his weight as he threw one of Crowley’s arms over his shoulders. Perhaps a little awkward, with the height difference, but still, Crowley was sure that without Azira’s help, he’d be on the ground in a pained heap again. 

“Let’s get back home,” Aziraphale said, mostly under his breath, so softly that Crowley wasn’t quite sure he’d been meant to hear it. He smiled anyway.


End file.
